Splintered Shafts

Splintered Shafts

Climbing above ponderosa
to the sky basin cradling
the Crippled Lakes as lightning cracks,
wind rising, rain starting to spit down.
Eying the storm, knowing I’m a target
high in open sky, I retreat to the enfolding shelter
below tree line. Split bark detonations cracks the divide
east then west, distant peaks obliterated, chill settling in,
day dimmed, swept under a rolling mist.

I laboriously get a small fire started, hunch over its
warmth, fingering trilliums, drifting, tired, parachuting
out of my self to drowse down splintered shafts
to the bloodied spring, the cave of the sacred cow.
The goddess raises her head, slit eyes demanding sacrifice;
we face one another through our wounds,
burnt crosses spit rusted nails.

I wake to the prattle
of the smallest flower
speaking blue.